Distinctly Peruvian

Two trips to Peru in two years; I am humbled to have had the opportunity to experience this wonderful country twice in a short amount of time. My first journey was a trip for teachers, and the second journey was with my church.  Both took me out of my comfort zone. I learned, saw, felt, and thought. I was changed beyond my wildest expectations, and it left me thirsting for more. And while I yearn to go back, I am left me with certain memories that are crystal clear in my mind…distinctly Peruvian moments. Allow me to turn back the clock and share a few with you.

We're waiting for the birds to arrive at the clay lick.

I’m in the Amazon rain forest sitting by a clay lick at 5:30 a.m. with twenty American teachers and our Peruvian guides. The goal for the morning is to observe macaws at the clay lick and to take notes about their behavior. The birds don’t care that we’re waiting for them. They’ll arrive when they feel like it. And so, we wait. I begin to write a few notes in my journal when a terrible cacophony starts up in the trees. It’s the howler monkeys. They all howl at the same time, and the noise sounds like a freight train. The din continues for a few moments, and then it suddenly stops. As I puzzle at the abruptness of it all, rain starts to fall. I pull out my raincoat and marvel at the timing of the monkeys. Did they know the rain was coming and call out as a warning? I’ll never know for sure, but the timing of it seems too perfect to be anything else.

It’s a dark night in the Amazon rain forest. We have spent an hour in a boat searching for caimans, relatives of alligators, along the river bank. We found a few, easily seen by their eyes reflecting our light, but it certainly wasn’t the bounty we’d hoped for. We return to the shore and stop for a few moments to listen to the sounds of the forest, the tree frogs. Their croaking sounds more like the chirping of insects. I lay down in the sand of the riverbank to watch the stars above and listen to the frog chorus. With no light pollution to mar the sky, the stars are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. I search for familiar constellations, but the southern hemisphere’s sky looks different from the northern hemisphere’s. In that peaceful moment, I feel like staying on the riverbank forever, listening to the frogs and watching the stars twinkle in the sky.

Fast forward two years, and I’m in Peru again. This time I’m standing on a mountain top. It’s cold, and I’m wearing multiple layers of clothes, plus my hat, scarf, and gloves. The sun has set and the night sky is clear. The stars above me make the sky look like it’s filled with diamonds. I can see the Milky Way cutting a path through space. My breath is taken away at the spectacle of it all. The constellation of the Southern Cross, only seen in the southern hemisphere, is visible before me. Our group spontaneously starts to sing because the sight before us is so majestic. This beautiful scene is repeated night after night. I wish I could photograph what I see, but no camera could do it justice.

This family came out to meet us as we hiked.

Now I’m walking along a mountain path heading towards a village to distribute the translated New Testament to the native Quechua people of Peru. As usual, I’m at the back of the group because I’m a slow hiker, but this time it pays off. A family comes out of their house to talk to the people at the end of our group. Through a translator we are able to have a conversation with them and give them a Bible and a children’s picture Bible. They are so touched by our gift that they run into their house and return with a large basket of potatoes. They insist that we take the potatoes as a thank you gift for the Bibles. They immediately start to look through the Bibles we’ve given them and they even walk down the road to meet the rest of our group. Later that evening, they walk two hours to the village to hear our presentation and see the Jesus video. Their excitement humbles me as I realize what a big deal it is for these families to receive Bibles written in their own native language.

It’s moments like these, plus many more, that have caused me to fall in love with Peru. The people, the scenery, the ruggedness of the place; it has seeped into my veins and become a part of me. I can’t wait to go back, to experience more of what makes this South American country “distinctly Peruvian.”

Shoes, Chopsticks, and Buddha – Adventures in Japan

Shoes must be taken off at the door, and chopsticks are used to eat food. Along with 200 other American teachers, I faced these cultural experiences while traveling Japan for three weeks as a guest of the Japanese government and a member of the Fulbright Teacher program. Our purpose on this trip was to be immersed in the culture and to learn about the Japanese educational system.

The "shoe cubby" at a Japanese junior high school

One of my first lessons upon arriving in Japan dealt with footwear. When entering particular Japanese buildings, such as schools, homes, and temples, outside shoes are exchanged for inside shoes. These inside shoes normally resembled slippers, and the slippers never went outside. Japanese people prefer to keep outside dirt out of their buildings. Zones at entryways provide a convenient place where shoes can be swapped.

Japanese students take off their shoes as soon as they enter their school buildings. Shoe cubbies are provided at entryways where their inside slippers wait. The shoe swap takes place, and then students head to class. When the students need to go outside, they switch their shoes again. It’s a never-ending process of taking shoes on and off. As a visitor, I was expected to do the same. Inside slippers were provided for visitors, but I brought my own. My large American feet were not easily accommodated by small Japanese slippers.

My school lunch, including the cuttlefish

Eating with chopsticks is another expectation of a visitor to Japan. I admit that before going to Japan, my ability to eat with chopsticks was poor. But, with nary a fork in sight, I had to quickly master the chopsticks. During a visit to an elementary school, I ate with a group of first grade students in their classroom. They all watched the “American sensei” to see if I could use my chopsticks. Thankfully, I managed the entire meal without a major faux pas, but oh, those kids just waited for me to stumble. Later I realized that I should’ve been more concerned about what was on the menu that day. I ate the school lunch, and the main item was cuttlefish. A Google search revealed that the cuttlefish is a mollusk related to squid and octopus. Thank goodness the cuttlefish on my lunch tray had been deep fried. I have a theory about eating on the road -- I can eat anything, no matter how scary, if it’s deep fried.



One of the many Buddha statues seen in Japan

One of the main religions in Japan is Buddhism. In my mind, I had a picture of what Buddha looked like, so I felt confused by the myriad of statues that I saw in Japan. Which one was Buddha? In time, and after asking questions through various tour guides and translators, I learned that the statues of Buddha do not always appear to look the same. His physical appearance varies from statue to statue. After gaining this bit of information, my sight-seeing in Japan was clearer.

And so, with my shoes off, my chopsticks in hand, and recognizing the Buddha a bit better, I felt more confident with every day I spent in Japan. As those three weeks continued on, I also began to understand and appreciate the people of Japan more.

Not Just Animals in the Rain Forest

The Amazon 2010 Group and friends at CECCOT

Before I left home for this rain forest adventure, I was a little nervous. I was getting ready to head into the jungle with 19 other people that I didn't know. Traveling across the globe to meet up with complete strangers and then trek into the wild is a situation that's fairly unusual. I certainly felt it would test my ability to adapt and make friends quickly. Would I have the mettle? Even as an adult, I always have the fear that no one will like me and no one will want to be my friend. It's amazing how some of those schoolyard insecurities hang around. Fortunately, on this trip, they were fears that were completely unfounded because most of the people in the group found ourselves in the same exact situation. We all needed to make friends quickly. We all had to adapt. We all had to step out of our comfort zones a little bit. It helped that we were all educators, so we at least had one thing in common. I think this was a good exercise for me. It stretched me, made me grow.


What's interesting about teachers is that we tend to be slightly obnoxious at times. Most teachers are take-charge kind of people. We're used to being in control and giving orders. We like to talk. It can be hard for a group of teachers to acquiesce to another authority. However, in this group, we did, and it worked amazingly well. We got along great, we got along well with our leaders, and everyone seemed focused on the common goals of learning and growing. As a group, we were a well-oiled machine, and that's saying something.

I am grateful to the people on this trip who spent time with me, got to know me, and even tolerated some of my quirks (like my fear of bats). I never would've survived without my "bat buddies" who shielded me from the winged beasties. I enjoyed the conversations we all had about school, life, and the awesomeness of the experience we were having. Traveling is great, seeing the world is awesome, but it's even better when surrounded by people who make it memorable. The people on this trip helped to make it memorable for me, and for that, I am truly thankful.